Richer Man
by Latebloomnriter
Summary: Johnny comes to a new appreciation of his family after encountering a clan with a similar history. Semi-AR for a time shift.


**Richer Man**

Semi-AU for a time shift for the Cartwrights. They fit here in the Lancer timeline so that Joe is 22 years old, the same age as Johnny.

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur

Johnny decided he had to go alone. The man had been his friend, and Johnny was determined to get the justice that the law rejected. Madrid would take care of his own.

His family objected, of course. Scott put a fierce argument about accompanying him, but Johnny refused. He would do this his way, alone. He meant too that the Lancer name would not be associated with Madrid any more than it was, here in California. When he went to Nevada he would travel first by train, and then rent a horse, so no Lancer brand would be seen.

He found the men in Reno. It was considered a fair fight, but two men shot dead while opposing one was bound to birth some stories. Not that there seemed to be much action in Reno-that place would surely never amount to much.

He swung through Virginia City on his return trip. The saloons were good there, and he cabled his family to reassure them of his safe return. From his strategic location in the hotel bar, he indulged in some people watching, while as always, he was looking for threats.

One table caught his attention, not as a threat, but for the high spirits. There was something about them that made him curious. They didn't look a bit alike, and acted different, but they seemed tighter than a flock of sheep. He wanted to know about them. Curiosity might kill cats, but it wouldn't leave a scratch on Johnny Madrid-or Johnny Lancer.

The most excitable of the men was young, looking to be about his own age, at least in years. Johnny's life had put some hard miles on him, so he frequently looked older than he was, older than his brother, and years older than twenty-two. Only when he was feeling good did his features assume that fresh-faced, boyish look.

He called his server over. "That group over there. Who are they?"

"Them? Why, them's the Cartwright brothers." He spoke as if anyone should know that.

"They sure don't seem alike." Dios, had he really just said that? He silently scolded himself. How often had he heard _that_ before about himself and Scott?

"Say, you aren't from around here, are ya mister? Everyone around here knows about the Cartwrights."

Just like everyone in the San Joaquin and most of California knew the name Lancer. Or, at least they knew about Murdoch.

"So what about the Cartwrights?"

"Well, they own a big part of the State, all around Lake Tahoe. The old man, Ben, came here and built that big ranch with cattle, mining, lumber, they just about rule things here."

That was familiar too. So old Ben was the tune caller. He wondered how the "boys" felt about it.

"Those his sons over there?"

"Yeah, that's them. The oldest there, Adam, he was born back east, then went back and got some fancy education. The big feller is Hoss, could break you in two like a match stick. Then there's Little Joe, the boy all the girls is fussing over. They don't look alike 'cuz old Ben was married three times. Each of them boys has a different ma, all of 'em gone when the boys were young. Ben raised 'em by hisself, most of the time. They're all real tight, don't let nothing come between 'em."

It was all so familiar, but different too in some ways. The difference gnawed at Johnny, and he kept watching them. Sure, Murdoch tried to find him-he no longer doubted that, but he felt some anger on Scott's behalf. Here was someone a lot like Murdoch, but the old Cartwright never let anyone else take and keep his boys.

Johnny might have been like that Little Joe, all full of juice, like someone who never had anything real bad happen to him. At least, nothing bad that he would have remembered, anyway. Except having that nickname. Johnny never would have tolerated being called that nickname past the age of five.

The oldest brother in black also intrigued him. He had an air of being part of the room, but above it all, too, like he would fit in anywhere if he felt like it, while staying himself the whole time. Scott was like that too. Was that something about being bred in the east, and fancy schools? Watching them more, Johnny decided that this Little Joe just didn't understand his brotherly role. If Johnny had been the younger Cartwright, he would have put that serious brother in a headlock and mussed his perfect hair within two minutes after entering the room.

The oldest brother-he looked to be a few years older than Johnny and Scott, noticed that the scrutiny and turned to catch Johnny's eye. The dark hazel eyes were cool, but his gaze conveyed a warning that despite his refined air, he was not to be underestimated, and would be a dangerous man to cross.

Johnny knew the look well. He had seen it often enough on his brother.

Johnny looked away now as he was approached. The old man coming toward him looked determined and Johnny knew he would have to be careful.

"Madrid."

"Sheriff."

"I'm Sheriff Coffee. I don't want no trouble from the likes of you."

"I ain't looking for trouble, Sheriff. Just passing through."

"Pass through quickly. Are you on a job?"

"No job, just passing through, like I said."

"I heard about what happened in Reno. Two men dead. Like I said, we don't want your kind here."

"My kind." It had been a while since he was regarded like dirt under someone's boot. "Well, if you know about Reno, you know it was a fair fight. There's no paper on me."

The other customers were eyeing him now too. He could see the heads together, the mouths moving quietly. _Madrid, the gunfighter_. The Cartwrights were openly staring, all now knowing how Johnny had watched them.

"I'll be on my way tomorrow."

"See that you are."

Johnny merely nodded. The sheriff turned to the Cartwrights, and they spoke together, casting glances back in Johnny's direction.

"Roy, what's going on here?" The voice was deep and compelling, and an older, distinguished man approached the sheriff at the Cartwright table.

"Nothing so far, Ben. Just making sure there's no trouble." So this was the Cartwright sire. What was it about these great ranching _patrones _that they sounded like they were reading commandments from the mountain? Now the entire family and the sheriff stared at Johnny. He smiled politely and raised his glass just to rattle them a bit. The Cartwrights eyed him warily, and then began talking among themselves. He finished his drink, eavesdropped on the Cartwrights a bit more, and sauntered toward the stairs to his room.

The resentment ate at Johnny on the way home, how that family so similar to his own had not only survived, but thrived. He had seen the great deference all the sons paid to their father, and how he treated them. _Why couldn't we..." _No, he wouldn't travel that road. For once he agreed with the old man. It would drive a man stark mad, thinking on what could have, should have happened.

Closer to home, he found his thoughts on the Cartwrights shifting as he remembered some of their conversation. There was great respect, but old Cartwright seemed to treat those sons as if they were still boys who had to always dance to the tune he called. Johnny had heard the father scold the young Joe about drinking and playing cards, (though he was plainly sober) then reminded the other two brothers that they were supposed to be looking out for the "boy." Strange enough to Johnny, none of the sons seemed to mind that bit of scolding. At that age! Johnny would have used a few short words to tell the old man to go to hell and bolted toward the border if Murdoch talked to him like that. Scott? He would have used a lot of long words to tell Murdoch to go to hell, and then Brother would have taken his skinny ass back to Boston.

Johnny grinned. Murdoch's hair that hadn't grayed from growing those good blades of grass had sure turned color from trying to tell _his_ boys what to do. By the time Johnny could see the arch leading to the house his spirits had lifted considerably. Sure the Cartwrights had a real good life, but having always been close, they could never appreciate what it meant to find a home, and family, when for years it had never seemed possible. Having that family, and the most beautiful place on earth, tasted all the more sweeter to someone starved for it.

Teresa was the first to greet him, with that smile to light up a room. Johnny swept her off the ground, planting the biggest, sloppiest kiss ever on her cheek. Murdoch was next. Gone was that closed, cold granite expression from the first day they met, now open and warm, smiling from mouth to eyes. He shook Johnny's hand, clapping him on the shoulder with words of welcome. Finally Scott walked from around the house, with that wry smile. Johnny grabbed the arm coming to swat him, pulling his brother's head low enough to wrap it in a headlock. He held him there close, until Scott's muffled question asked, was Johnny planning to let go any time soon?

Johnny answered no; he was going to hang on for as long as he could.


End file.
